Pinned to Mrs Walter Riddell's Carriage
If you rattle along like your Mistress's tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart;
But a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road,
If your stuff be as rotten's her heart.
Epitaph for Mr Walter Riddell
Sic a reptile was Wat, sic a miscreant slave,
That the worms ev'n d....d him when laid in his grave;
"In his flesh there's a famine," a starved reptile cries,
"And his heart is rank poison!" another replies.
Charming, eh! And such economy with words!!